


Caught You ‘Cause I Could

by BabyStepsAreStillSteps



Series: Finding Family [2]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Catch Me If You Can references, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:20:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26439382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabyStepsAreStillSteps/pseuds/BabyStepsAreStillSteps
Summary: Neal’s birthday rolls around and he’s in for a surprise... or maybe just a party, but either way it should be fun.
Relationships: Diana Berrigan & Neal Caffrey, Neal Caffrey & Clinton Jones, Neal Caffrey & Everyone, Peter Burke & Neal Caffrey
Series: Finding Family [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1923745
Comments: 19
Kudos: 61





	1. Live in Living Color

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Summer_Meadows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Summer_Meadows/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This is a sequel, so it will make more sense if you read the first story, ‘Home Is Where The Heart Is’. 
> 
> This one will _probably_ make sense without reading it, although in the first one I did give the other FBI agents around the office names and pictures, a visual aid can be found  
> [ here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23987872).

"Look, Peter," Neal said over his shoulder as he held the door open for his handler. "I'm sorry, but it's just a fact. One of us is right, and the other one is you."

"SURPRISE!" a chorus of voices shouted, excitedly.

Neal's attention snapped to the room behind him, a smile spreading across his face as he realized what the jarring noise was.

His eyes flicked around the room, taking in the excited white collar agents, the plates and forks laid next to a closed white box, and a small pile of presents on the end of the table, just visible around the crowd of people..

"Happy birthday," Peter grinned, clapping a hand to his back and shepherding him to the table.

"Thank you!" Neal said sincerely to everyone in the room, beaming as he took the sat Peter pushed him toward.

"Presents!" Diana announced, bringing a surprising number of gifts over to the table.

"I get presents?" Neal asked, trying, and failing, to cover his honest surprise. "I must have been good this year."

"That's Christmas," Diana corrected, pushing a long, flat box in front of him. "Luckily for you, birthday presents aren't dependent on the year's behavior."

Neal snorted, but excitedly pulled the box closer instead of returning the banter. The box was wrapped in simple brown paper, and 'From, Diana' was written in the corner.

Neal flashed her a bright smile as he carefully opened it. He pulled away the paper, his eyes widening as he took in what it was. A brand new set of pastels that he had been wanting for _weeks_.

"Diana, thank you!" he said, turning to grin excitedly at her, fingers running over the new art supplies as he itched to take them out immediately and start using them.

"You'll have to show me what you make with them," she told him, her smile brightening even further at his excitement.

"Oh, count on it," he promised, looking back at the pastels in his hands. 

She had bought him his favorite brand. He had run out weeks ago, but the store that had sold them inside his radius had moved, and the new location didn't offer delivery services, much to his disappointment.

Apparently she had been listening when he had lamented loudly and continually for most of a morning that he had run out, in the hopes that Peter would take him to the store.

He had thought his plan had backfired when Peter, fed up, had assigned him five mortgage fraud cases and retreated to his office, but apparently Diana had been taking notes.

Actually, now that Neal thought about it, Diana and Peter had been exchanging looks and nods during his whole lamentation. Neal had thought they were mutually making fun of him, but looking down at his brand new set of pastels, he realized Diana must have non-verbally called buying them as his birthday present.

"Thank you," he told her sincerely, and she nodded with a warm smile.

"Mine next!" Jones demanded, shoving a box into Neal's hands.

Neal grinned as he looked down at it. It was not quite as wide as a shoe box, but almost twice as tall, and extremely light. It wasn't wrapped, but the box itself looked like a gift box, a deep blue that Neal wryly noted matched the tie he had worn for the day.

He opened the box carefully, and his smile grew impossibly wider.

"Jones, this is amazing!" he said, pulling the new fedora out with a barely suppressed giddy elation. 

He had looked at the hat in his hands for _days_ when they had worked the case of a high-end botique's robbery.

Neal had looked at the hat every time they revisited the crime scene in those three days, weighing the price of the hat versus how much he wanted it, eventually cracking and deciding to buy it the day they had wrapped up the case, only to find it had already been sold. To Jones apparently.

Neal immediately brought it to his head in his signature hat flip, much to everyone's amusement.

"Jones, thank you," Neal chirped, smiling up at him from under the brim of his new hat, “it's _perfect_!”

"I'm glad you like it," Jones chuckled, watching Neal's antics fondly.

"Ours next!" Mabena announced, stepping forward to offer Neal an unsealed envelope. "This is from me, and Saunders, Ocampo, Rodriquez, Seto, and Wallace."

Neal took the envelope and pulled out a sheet of paper that had been folded in fourths. He unfolded it to reveal the words 'Your purchase has been shipped!' at the top.

Cocking his head he scanned the rest. The price listed had been firmly blotted out, but lower on the page there was a picture and product name of a pottery wheel he had been wanting to get for weeks, but hadn't quite been able to make himself spend the money.

He looked up at the grinning agents with wide, astonished eyes, staring in shock for a moment before the surprise faded into excited gratitude, glancing back down at the shipping information that listed June's address as the final destination.

Over coffee a few weeks before, he had mentioned to Wallace that he was thinking about trying to learn pottery next. An artist who specialized in handmade pottery had opened a store three streets down from June's house, and when he had walked in to her shop to peruse her work, she mentioned that she would fire other artist's work in her kiln in the back for a small fee, which had moved pottery up on his list of new types of art to learn.

Pottery had always been on his list of interests, but without a kiln it hadn't seemed worth it to buy an expensive pottery wheel if he would have to also have to buy and find somewhere to store the much bulkier and much more expensive kiln to go with it.

" _Thank you_ ," he said sincerely, looking at each of them with a a bright, grateful smile.

"And Varma and I got you this," Chang announced, handing Neal another unsealed envelope with a dramatic flourish that made Neal chuckle.

He pulled out another shipping print out, this one announcing that a large amount of high-end clay was on its way to June's house as well.

He looked up at the two agents and beamed brightly, feeling like he might float out of his seat at any moment.

"Thank you!" he said excitedly, already drafting ideas for what he could make as soon as both presents arrived.

"The condition of our gift," Zoe told him in mock-seriousness, "is that you have to make the office a bowl or vase or something with it."

"Deal!" Neal agreed immediately, carefully folding both papers and sliding them back into their respective envelopes as he flashed the room another bright smile.

“This is from the whole team," Peter said, stepping forward to give Neal a tall gift bag.

Neal took it curiously, pulling out a rolled paper. He glanced at Peter as he pulled the rubber band off, spreading it across the empty table.

"A map," he said, sounding vaguely confused and slightly disappointed. "A city map of New York. Thanks, guys!"

"It's not just a map," Diana said conspiratorly, leaning forward to tap a green line that ran along a few of the streets.

She tapped another line, this one a dotted blue square. "Do you know what this is?"

He leaned in closer to the paper, his eyes tracing along the streets marked.

"It's my radius," he said, a disbelieving hope growing in his voice as he looked up at them. They were all smiling at him excitedly.

"Yep," Peter confirmed. "Well, it used to be. You have a new one now, a three mile one this time."

"Really?" Neal gasped in giddy excitement, eyes flying back to the new larger square, leaning in to look at all the new places he could go.

There was a new park! A group of stores he had wanted to visit but had never been able to convince Peter it was a necessity. A movie theater! A dozen new restaurants. An _art museum_!

"Thank you," he said, looking up at them and hoping they could see how much this meant to him. "Thank you, thank you so much!"

"Well," Peter shrugged off his gratitude, "You've been very helpful and surprisingly well behaved, so the Marshals thought it was appropriate."

Diana scoffed loudly.

"Don't let him fool you, Neal," she said, "they did _not_ think it was appropriate. He called them every day for over a month to bother them, and they eventually let it go through just so he'd stop annoying them.”

Peter blushed, looking uncomfortable, but Neal stared at him, deeply touched.

"Thank you," he said sincerely.

"No problem," Peter shrugged awkwardly in a failed attempt at nonchalance.

"It was a problem, it was a big problem," Jones said in a stage whisper, and the rest of them laughed.

"Here," Jones continued after a pause, rescuing his brightly blushing boss, "there's another part.”

He pushed a small square box wrapped in paper with handcuffs and FBI badges on it toward Neal.

Neal chuckled at the wrapping, carefully opening it along the seams, folding the paper neatly before he opened the plain white box underneath

"A mug," he said in the voice of someone trying to pretend they loved a gift. "Thanks guys, I've always wanted a blue mug."

Jones rolled his eyes, laughing at the snark.

"Turn it around, idiot," he instructed fondly.

"Oh," Neal said, turning the mug around to look at the other side.

"Oh," he repeated in a touched whisper as he studied the front.

They had custom ordered the mug. It was a dark blue, the same color as their FBI jackets, with the emblem of the FBI proudly displayed on one side. Around the icon they had printed the words 'Honorary Agent' in big yellow letters.

"Thank you," he said softly, looking up at all of them. "I _love_ it."

He gently traced the words 'Honorary Agent', a deeply touched and slightly shy smile on his face.

"Cake next," Peter announced, breaking the silence that had fallen as Neal stared at the mug.

The agents around him cheered, distributing plates and forks as Peter pulled the large, white cake box closer to Neal.

"El picked the cake," Peter told Neal, opening the lid and carefully pulling the cake out to sit on the table.

Neal sat up straighter so he could see the top, smiling brightly when he saw the decorations she had chosen.

An easel was depicted in a bright icing design, the canvas on it filled with the colorful words 'Happy Birthday, Neal!' in an artistic calligraphy. 

The rest of the cake was taken up with a painting pallet, each paint circle a bright dot of icing, and color-tipped paint brushes on the other side.

Peter stepped forward to light a match for the candles that lined the sides, and Neal struggled to think of any wish he could make that would improve the already perfect day.

Maybe instead of a birthday _wish_ he'd give a birthday _thanks_ as he realized the dozens of past birthday wishes he had made to find somewhere to belong had finally come true.

As they finished singing, Neal took another look around the room before he closed his eyes to concentrate on how happy he felt, and blew out his candles.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

  
The white collar agents did their best to keep the party going as long as possible, but eventually Peter laughingly shooed them back to the bullpen to get back to work, returning a few minutes later with a cardboard box from his office for Neal to stack his gifts into.

Peter walked closer, handing him the empty box, and Neal nodded his thanks, setting it on the table next to his presents.

"Is the briefing for the new case next on the list?" Neal asked, carefully arranging his pastels inside the hatbox and tucking it into the corner of the box Peter had brought so it didn't get dented.

"No," Peter grinned, “Hughes couldn't come to the party, but his present is that he's going to look the other way when you leave after your party today."

"Really?" Neal asked eagerly, looking forward to his unexpectedly free afternoon.

“Yep. As a side note, your extended radius is already in effect, but before you go explore your new square mile, there's one more present," Peter said, tossing a handful of paper plates into the trashcan in the corner.

"Oh?" Neal asked, looking up curiously from the box he was still very carefully packing his new treasures into.

"If you're free tonight, which I know you are, I asked June, I’m going to take you to a musical," Peter said, wiping the spilled cake crumbs off the table and throwing them in the trash as well.

"A musical?" Neal repeated curiously, continuing to arrange his box as he considered that. "On Broadway?"

Peter scoffed, shaking his head.

"Broadway? No, not on a federal salary. I can't afford Broadway tickets. No, this is a community theater, El thought we'd like the show.”

"Um, Peter," Neal started awkwardly, "that's really nice, but -,

"It's outside your radius," Peter offered, knowing he had a winning card. "Way outside even your new radius."

"I'm in!" Neal agreed immediately. "Thanks, Peter! What time? Oh, also, what musical?"

Peter gestured for Neal to pick up the box and followed his consultant out of the room, turning the lights off and closing the door as he went.

"Well," he said, pressing the button for the elevator as they walked up to it, "I’ll pick you up at five thirty but the show starts at seven, it should take us about an hour to drive there."

"Do I need to dress up?" Neal asked, bouncing in place as he got more excited about the idea.

Peter laughed, stepping into the elevator and punching the button for the ground floor.

"Neal, you wear suits that cost more than my yearly income to the office, there is nowhere I could take you that would qualify you dressing up for."

Neal conceded that point with a nod, but didn't stop trying to pry information out of his handler. 

"Ok, but you never told me what it's called."

The door opened and Peter led the way out of the elevator and out the main doors into the bright sunlight outside.

"I don't know what it's called," Peter said, pulling his keys out of his pocket, "El reserved us tickets. All she'd say is that she thinks we'll like it."

"Hmmm," Neal hummed, intrigued. "Mysterious.”

"Yep," Peter chuckled, unlocking the door and sliding in. "That's my wife, one of life's great mysteries."

Neal laughed as he slid into the passenger seat holding his box.

"She sure is," he agreed, nodding fondly, “she _sure_ is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I would love to hear what you think, comments make my day. :) 
> 
> Each chapter still needs a bit of editing, but I’ve written the whole story, so I should have an update fairly quickly!


	2. The Man Inside The Clues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone not aware, the book/movie/musical 'Catch me if you can' is what the White Collar series was inspired by.
> 
> 'Catch me if you can' is the real story of Frank Abgnale Jr, and I _highly_ recommend you read/watch/listen to it if you get the chance!
> 
> Neal's character was _heavily_ inspired by Frank, basically if Neal were younger and specialized in checks instead of art in general, he'd be Frank.
> 
> The FBI agent pursuing Frank was Carl Hanratty, and Peter isn't quite as much of an exact replica of him as Neal is Frank, but there are _a lot_ of similarities there, and it's easy to tell he was the inspiration for Peter's character.
> 
> Note: in the song ‘Christmas is my favorite time of year’ Frank makes a comment that he’s on St. Carl’s most wanted list, so that’s what Peter is referencing when he makes the St. Peter joke.

“Two tickets for Burke?" Peter asked at the ticket window, accepting the two tickets with a nod of thanks and stepping away from the window to let the next person move forward.

"Here's yours," he said to Neal, passing him his ticket while peering down at the seat number on his own. "Looks like we're C-fifteen and sixteen."

"Wow," Neal remarked, impressed, giving one of the theater greeters a grateful smile as he accepted two playbills, passing one to his handler. "It sounds like Elizabeth got us some great seats."

"Yeah," Peter nodded, surveying the theater, "should be right in the middle of the row."

He and Neal made their way to their seats, sliding past the other people in the row who were already seated.

"Alright," Neal said, getting situated, "We are seeing, drum roll please.... 'Catch me if you can'!"

"Here, they put a description in the playbill," Peter said, pointing at the page he had open.

Neal leaned over to glance at the illustration as Peter read aloud, "Seeking fame and fortune, precocious teenager, Frank Abagnale, Jr. -,"

"Wait," Neal said, sounding excited, "did you say Frank Abagnale Jr _._?"

Peter double checked the page and looked up in question.

"Yeah, why?"

Neal's eyes were bright with excitement as he smiled at Peter.

"You don't know _Frank Abagnale Jr._?" he asked, bouncing slightly in his seat as he tried to contain his enthusiasm.

"Uh," Peter studied him, wracking his mind for who could bring Neal to this level of excited awe. "The name sounds familiar, but I don't remember where I've heard it."

"Peter," Neal said, leaning forward in giddy elation. "He's the one I based my tracking anklet deal off of! He led the FBI on a three year hunt across America and Europe, passing off expertly forged checks.

He was most of the case law and precedent I cited in that packet of papers I gave you asking for my deal. After years of good behavior in prison, he was released into the custody of his FBI agent on a work agreement that he would help them find check forgerers for the rest of his sentence, he became the best in the business."

"They made a musical about him?" Peter asked, curious and suddenly much more interested in the show.

"I guess!" Neal said, leaning forward to tap the paragraph Peter had been reading. "Read the rest!"

Peter nodded, bringing the paper a little closer to his face.

"Precocious teenager, Frank Abagnale, Jr.,” Peter continued, "runs away from home to begin an unforgettable adventure. 

With nothing more than his boyish charm, a big imagination and millions of dollars in forged checks, Frank successfully poses as a pilot, a doctor and a lawyer – living the high life and winning the girl of his dreams. 

When Frank's lies catch the attention of FBI agent, Carl Hanratty, though, Carl pursues Frank across the country to make him pay for his crimes."

Peter looked up Neal, who was practically bouncing with excitement.

"Peter," he said in an undertone as the lights dimmed, "this is going to be _awesome_!"

Peter and Neal watched in shocked silence as the man playing Frank sang and danced his way through the opening number.

“Are you and Frank the same person?” Peter asked Neal in dazed disbelief, his mind drawing similarities to his consultant with every lyric sung.

Neal was watching the stage with wide, awestruck eyes.

“I have never identified more with a song in my entire life,” he whispered to a Peter in near reverence.  
  


/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

When the show ended, both men joined the rest of the audience in a standing ovation.

“I am mildly disturbed at how well that musical reflects our lives,” Peter said to Neal over the noise.

Neal laughed brightly and nodded his emphatic agreement to Peter’s statement, still clapping enthusiastically.

As the lights came on, they gathered their things and joined the crowd of people streaming toward the exit, making it out onto the less crowded street a few minutes later.

"Frank is a legend," Neal said, flipping his hat onto his head with his signature flourish. "I should be a pilot."

"Uh, no," Peter said, thwapping him with the playbill. "I already chased you international once, don't make me do it again.”

"I’ll think about it," Neal said lightly.

"Just don't think about it with Mozzie," Peter sighed.

Neal chuckled.

"You know, Peter," he said, changing topics, "I knew that Frank was check forging consultant from when I researched the case law to ask you about this anklet, but the FBI report did not do him justice!"

"The FBI report did do him justice," Peter insisted, "because that's what the FBI does, deliver justice."

Neal shot him an exasperated look.

"Ok, Uncle Sam," he said sarcastically.

"Sorry, Neal, you're on St. Peter's naughty list," Peter smirked, pleased with himself for his joke.

"Why couldn't Elizabeth have taken me?" Neal asked in a flat deadpan.

"Because when you walked out she would have encouraged you to become a pilot," Peter sighed, shaking his head in resignation at his wife's antics.

Neal chuckled. "Yeah, she might have. She is incredibly supportive considering she married The Man."

Peter rolled his eyes. "You've been spending too much time with Mozzie," he grumbled. "And yes, unfortunately, no matter what side of the law it's on, she's always liked smart.”

"Oh, it's not that unfortunate," Neal argued lightly. "That's probably why she went for the mathlete, you know.”

Peter looked upward, visibly praying for patience.

"I told you," he said in long suffering exasperation, "I was a math major and an athlete, not a mathlete.”

"What's the difference?" Neal asked with an innocence Peter knew was fake.

Peter thwacked him again with the playbill.

"Well, a mathlete wouldn't have done that, for one thing," he said smugly.

"You sure?" Neal asked with a grin. "You never know, Peter, nerds can be surprisingly fierce.”

He paused a beat, then added, "Some even grow up to be FBI agents.”

He laughed as he danced out of the way of Peter's playbill, running a step or two before Peter caught him and gave him a firm thwack on his back in revenge.

Far from deterring him, it just made him laugh harder, bending over as he cackled at the image of Peter in a sweater vest, nerd glasses, and pocket protector that always popped into his head when he teased him about being a mathlete.

He expected another thwack, but when he opened his eyes he found Peter smiling fondly at him

"Whatever, Abagnale," Peter teased. "You done? Or are you walking home?"

“Oh, walking!" Neal said immediately, his grin turning distinctly mischievous. "Don't even worry about it, Carl, I know my way home, I’ll see you in the office tomorrow.”

"Neal," Peter said, a hint of fond warning in his voice. "You'd be walking, I'd be driving directly behind you to make sure you actually went home.”

Neal abruptly deflated, pouting as Peter chuckled at him while he unlocked the car.

Neal slid in, crossing his arms over his chest for emphasis to make sure Peter understood he was still pouting, but he also that didn't want to be left behind.

Peter shook his head fondly and tapped Neal's hat to push it down over his eyes.

"Seatbelt," he said when Neal pushed his hat back up and scowled at him. 

Neal rolled his eyes and relented, clicking it on defiantly, as if it had been his idea all along, and Peter snorted another laugh as he put the car in drive and started out of the parking lot.

Neal didn't hold on to grudges well, and within seconds he perked up again, speculating on the likelihood of people believing he was a lawyer.

Peter listened to him talk all the way home, occasionally needling him or throwing in some banter. A couple times he poked holes in the hypothetical cons Neal was planning, just to see how his creative mind would fix the problem.

He almost crashed the car laughing when Neal informed him with a completely straight face that he would use a local circus elephant as his getaway vehicle if he stole the crown jewels of England.

Neal glowed under Peter's undivided attention, and Peter got the distinct impression that Neal's hypothetical cons were escalating so drastically in an attempt to impress him.

Normally Peter tried to discourage that behavior at all costs but... but it _was_ his birthday, and they _were_ hypothetical...

"I'm glad you switched over to the good side," Peter said, flashing Neal a quick smile. "We’re lucky to have your genius working with us instead of against us."

If possible, Neal smiled even wider, sitting up so straight in his seat that Peter almost wondered if he was going to float away.

"Did I tell you?" Peter asked casually, as if he hadn't saved this piece of information for the icing on the cake of Neal's birthday. He'd threatened his team with van duty and dismemberment if they told Neal before he got a chance to.

"We got the unit metrics back from Internal, and our unit's close rate is officially up to ninety four point eight percent.” 

Peter looked across the car at his beaming passenger.

“You know," he added lightly, "our department held a steady eighty nine percent close rate for the five years before you came to help, looks like you sparked an almost six percent increase."

He put the car in park and turned in his seat to fully take in his happy passenger

"Happy Birthday, Neal," he said simply.

"Thanks, Peter," Neal said sincerely. "This is the best birthday I've ever had. Thank you.”

Peter smiled broadly at him. "You're welcome, Neal. Now get in there and start sleeping, we've got a big case tomorrow."

"Ok, _Partner_ , see ya tomorrow," Neal said, sliding out of the car and adjusting his hat, "bright and early 'cause we're stuck together, which is strange, but true."

Peter rolled his eyes, but didn't correct the term or the phrase. He watched fondly as Neal practically skipped up his front steps and in the door, shaking his head as he pulled his car out on the road, still amazed by how well the musical had mirrored their lives.

He couldn’t wait to get home and tell El how much Neal had loved her present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I did not come up with the plot synopsis they read, I got that from the Star Theatre Company website. 
> 
> My sister and I were listening to the musical and she said “wouldn’t it be funny if Peter and Neal watched this musical?” and then the plot bunny for this chapter sprung into existence, fully formed. 
> 
> The birthday idea formed around it, but mostly, I just think it’s hilarious to imagine Peter and Neal watching this and being like ‘how did we end up almost exact clones of these people?’ 
> 
> If you're interested in the book or movie 'Catch me if you can', your local library probably has a copy, mine did anyway. The musical soundtrack is on youtube, found [here](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLYr6mmo3zXrnGPUKqftkdeB4NNEQGIG8M) , and I'm a big fan!
> 
> [ I particularily like 'Live in Living Color', 'Don't Break the Rules', 'Seven Wonders', and 'Stuck Together' if you don't have the time/interest to listen to all of them] 
> 
> I haven't actually gotten to _see_ the the musical, because no theaters around my house have ever done it, but I've very recently discovered that there are high school productions filmed and put on youtube, if you want to watch that. I haven't gotten to watch any of them yet, but I'm sure they're excellent.
> 
> They don't say outright that Frank and Carl exist in canon, but I think the caselaw that Neal found in the first episode to base his deal off of was a nod to the pair that inspired the show. 
> 
> That could just be my interpretation though.... Anyway, I'm declaring that they exist in world, so that’s how I’ll be treating canon for this ‘verse. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, I’d love to know what you think!


	3. Don’t Break The Rules

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU for the incredibly kind reviews and kudos, I love ALL of them!!!
> 
> There are a lot of references to the musical in this chapter, specifically the songs ‘Jetset’, ‘Someone Else’s Skin’, ‘The Pinstripes Are All They See’, ‘Butter Out Of Cream’, ‘Live in Living Color’, and ‘Stuck Together’. 
> 
> If you don’t get the references or you haven’t had the time/interest to listen to them, I matched the reference to the song in the end notes 😊

  
“Another one for St. Peter’s naughty list,” Neal remarked, watching Seto read the man they had just caught his rights.

Peter sent him an amused smile, nodding in agreement.

“It gets longer every day,” Peter said lightly, waving off the questioning looks from Diana and Jones as he followed Seto to the car to watch the transfer as the agent led the man to the back seat of the waiting vehicle.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

“Alright, what’d we find?” Peter asked, walking up to Neal, Jones, and Diana where they were gathered around the box of collected evidence on Diana’s desk.

“Plane ticket,” Jones answered, picking the papers out of the box to show Peter. “Looks like he was planning to go to England until things cooled down.”

“Well,” Neal said reasonably, trying to shove down a chuckle, “the jet set _is_ the only way to go.”

Peter snorted and cast him an amused look before returning his attention to Jones, who was looking at Neal in confusion.

“Ok, so he was going to England,” Peter refocused them before Jones could ask what Neal meant, “and I’m guessing from the size of this box, he already fenced the three paintings.”

“Yeah,” Diana sighed. “We got names of the fences from him, we’re tracing that now. We did find an entire box of stolen Rolex watches,” she gestured inside the box at the smaller box overflowing with expensive watches.

Peter nodded, peering further into the box.

Neal reached past him and plucked out a driver’s license sitting on the bottom.

“This is fake,” he said confidently. “I see he was already slipping into someone else’s skin.”

He grinned at Peter who chuckled at the joke, growing more amused by the comically bewildered looks Jones and Diana were sending his consultant.

“Well,” Peter grinned, plucking a Yankees cap from the left corner and showing it to Neal, “the pinstripes _are_ all they see.”

Neal laughed brightly, setting the license back in the box and doing nothing to answer the questioning looks from the other two.

“You’re not wrong,” he agreed before turning back to Diana. “Which fences did he name?”

“Uh...” she said, watching the pair in confusion. “He listed Vinny for the set of paintings and Big Eddy for the collection piece.”

Neal nodded his understanding.

“I know both of them, I’ll track them down today if you want me to,” he offered, including Jones and Peter in the statement.

Jones shook his head, his brow still furrowed from the earlier confusion.

“We already found them, Varma’s got one, Chang’s got the other.”

“The dynamic duo,” Neal noted fondly.

“Neal,” Peter warned, watching Neal subtly pick up a Rolex watch from the box of evidence. “No.”

“I’m being the second mouse, Peter, just making some butter, nothing wrong with that,” Neal explained with an innocent smile.

“Neal,” Peter said in a tone of thinning patience, “yes there is. What were the mice doing in the cream, huh?

They were messing around where they shouldn’t be. No one intends for mice to be put in their cream, those mice were criminals, and only one of them was a smart criminal.

I’ll grant you you’re smart, but that anklet is supposed to say you’re trying not to be a criminal anymore, right?”

Neal heaved a reluctant, put-upon sigh.

“Right,” he muttered, grudgingly dropping the watch back into the evidence box.

“Thank you. I think you can work on your paperwork in my office.”

“Mice?” Diana asked looking between them in confusion.

“Two of them,” Neal confirmed sadly as he trudged up the stairs.

“Mice?” Jones asked, equally bewildered.

“And some cream,” Peter said over his shoulder, leading Neal to his office like a scolded child.

Jones exchanged a look with Diana.

“Is it just me or are those two even stranger than usual?” he asked, glancing up at Peter’s office.

“I didn’t think it could happen,” Diana said, shaking her head in vague disbelief.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

"Did you know they made a movie about Frank, too?" Neal asked, a spark of excited awe in his voice as he ignored his stack of paperwork.

"Yeah, El mentioned it," Peter said distractedly, laying out the various witness statements in front of him to make the following forms easier to fill out.

"Frank got Leonardo DiCaprio to play him," Neal said, idly spinning his pen as he stared out the window, deep in thought.

"Uh huh," Peter agreed, not really listening as he bent over his paper.

"If they made a movie about me -," Neal started to ask.

"They won't," Peter interjected, turning the page and continuing to write his case report.

"But if they did," Neal insisted, "who do you think would play me?"

Peter looked up in exasperation. "I have no idea. Stop thinking about it and do your paperwork."

"I can do both!" Neal argued, twirling his pen elaborately around his fingers as he continued to ponder the choices.

“But you're not," Peter said pointedly with a look at Neal's untouched stack.

Neal pulled the top sheet off and started to fill it out. "Yes I am, look at all this paperwork I'm doing."

Peter rolled his eyes, but didn't press his point.

"Maybe it would also be DiCaprio," Peter said several seconds later, "and it can be a movie about you stealing an Oscar. Maybe they'll let him keep it when they're done.”

"I’ve allegedly done that before," Neal commented idly.

Peter winced. "Neal! I did not want to know that!"

"They’re not actually that cool," he remarked in disappointment.

"Just...just do your paperwork," Peter said in exhausted resignation.

Neal chuckled and bent over the desk to start filling out the paperwork in earnest.

"Who would play you?" Neal asked curiously, almost five minutes later, setting his first completed page aside.

"No one," Peter said firmly, "because I don't know about you stealing an Oscar and I don't want to!"

"Spoilsport," Neal grumbled.

"Doesn't-want-to-arrest-you- _again_ -sport," Peter corrected without looking away from the form he was working on.

Neal gave a grudging nod of agreement, pulling the next sheet of paper off his stack.

"Maybe it can be a prequel," he conceded, warming up to the idea. "It can be about me and Mozz," he cut himself off as he realized what he had said, " _if_ he had helped when I _allegedly_ stole said Oscar, not that it wouldn't be long past the statute of limitations anyway, if the crime had allegedly taken place.”

Peter rolled his eyes emphatically as he set his completed form aside and plucked another sheet off his pile.

"Neal," Peter remarked, "you have the right to remain silent, and I _think_ you even have the ability."

Neal laughed brightly, flipping the page he was working on to start on the back.

"But do I have the _desire_?" he asked pointedly, his tone and body language indicating he did not.

"I have enough for the both of us," Peter assured him, pinching the bridge of his nose and groaning a touch more dramatically than necessary to convey his point.

"Fine, Hanratty," Neal relented with an impish grin, "no more talking.”

“ _Thank you_ ," Peter said gratefully without looking up from his paperwork.

Neal gave it a minute and a half before he started humming ‘Live in Living Color’ under his breath, watching in giddy amusement as Peter's shoulders tensed and his mental dialogue of reminding himself not to reward his consultant with a reaction was almost loud enough for Neal to hear.

Neal watched his handler settle back into his paperwork, pointedly ignoring Neal, and Neal grinned as he turned back to his own.

Maybe he’d hum ‘Stuck Together’ next...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I’d love to know what you thought of the chapter :) 
> 
> Everything after this paragraph is an explanation of a reference, so if you’ve listened to the musical, or just have no desire to hear about the references, you don’t need to read the small novel below :) 
> 
> ‘[Christmas is My Favorite Time of Year](https://youtu.be/t-KwdJ02bCk)’ (St. Peter’s naughty/most wanted list comment - Frank calls Carl on Christmas and makes a comment that he can’t hang out with girls under the mistletoe because he’s on ‘St. Carl’s most wanted list’)
> 
> ‘[Jetset](https://youtu.be/ENJmk6l3M_U)’ (the Jetset is the only way to go comment - Frank’s parents are getting divorced, and when he is sixteen they spring it on him with no warning and ask him to choose right then and there which parent he’ll live with. Frank panics and freaks out, running away, which is what starts his whole criminal career. He’s trying to run away and he stumbles across the knowledge that with the right uniform, he can pretend to be a pilot ‘deadhead’ where he doesn’t have to actually fly, the pilot gets a free ride to another airport that he or she are supposed to be flying out of, so Frank essentially bums rides off commercial airlines for actual months. The song ‘Jetset’ is the song where he discovers that.)
> 
> ‘[Someone Else’s Skin](https://youtu.be/rNBE5hVzN2Q)’ (the driver’s license comment- ties in closely with the explanation right above for Jetset. Frank runs away so he won’t have to choose a parent, convinced they’ll realize they love each other when they have to work together to find him and he’ll come home to a happy, perfect home and everything will be fixed. He is asked to choose between his parents, asking him on the spot to choose which he’ll live with when he hadn’t even known they were getting divorced, and he decides he isn’t about that life. This is the song about the part of the plot where decides to runaway.)
> 
> ‘[The Pinstripes Are All They See](https://youtu.be/pqqFYJk90kc)’ (the Yankees hat comment - Frank’s dad is also kind of a conman, but more in a business salesman kind of way. He also isn’t nearly as good at it as Frank is, but he teaches Frank about how to get away with things. He tells him that if you wear the right clothes and have enough confidence, you can do anything, even things you are utterly unqualified for. They make a bigger point of it in the movie, but he maintains that the Yankees win the World Series because of their reputation, the other team is more intimidated by their uniform than truly beaten by their skills. As an interesting foil to Frank’s dad, Frank tells Carl Hanratty (the FBI agent) his dad’s theory, and Carl immediately shoots him down, listing off the players that carry the team, stressing that it’s their hard work and talent that consistently win the Series for them. Anyway, long story short, this is his dad singing about how nice clothes and confidence are all you need.)
> 
> ‘[Butter Out Of Cream](https://youtu.be/FsnXJqdzunI)’ (the mouse and butter conversation - closely tied in with the explanation above, Frank’s dad is down on his luck, his confidence could only carry him so far when he didn’t have any skills to back it up, and he’s sinking in to a slight depression. Frank visits him and reminds him of the story he always used to tell Frank, which essentially boils down to keep swimming and try to coast on your brazen confidence and his dad agrees, telling him he’ll be able to get back on his feet with the right scheme.)
> 
> ‘[Live in Living Color](https://youtu.be/B-OfRSAKSbU)’ and ‘[Stuck Together](https://youtu.be/niXnwTbDJRM)’ are the names of two of the songs, the first and last songs of the musical. (They are both wonderful. The Stuck Together one is particularly interesting, but there are SPOILERS for the ending in it, like, you can’t miss them, the song wraps up the show and ties a neat little bow on the plotline kind of spoilers, so listen at your own risk.)


	4. Stuck Together

“I’m going to go to the musical tonight,” El told her husband, pulling her clothes for the day out of the closet.

“Oh, by yourself?” Peter asked, looking up from his sock drawer he had been digging through. “Do you want me to come with you? I know you don’t like going to shows alone.”

“Aww, thank you, hon,” she said, kissing his cheek as she walked by, “but Cindy -, you know the set director?”

“I remember,” Peter nodded, “best friend from college, set director for the theatre, the one who told you about the musical when you were brainstorming presents for Neal.”

El looked pleased as she nodded.

“Yeah, good memory, hon. Cindy’s parents and some friends are going, so I’m good on the company front.”

“Ok,” Peter agreed, watching his wife fondly as she shot him a grin over her shoulder and moved to the restroom to finish getting ready for the day.

Apparently he had the house to himself when he got home from work, then.

He pulled out his phone.

‘Neal, want to do dinner tonight?’ he texted, ‘El’s going to the musical at 7, I bet she’ll want to talk about it if you want to stay until she gets home.’

‘Great!’ Neal responded within a few seconds, ‘I’d love to, what are we eating?’

‘Steaks?’ Peter suggested, thinking of the meat he had bought on sale and the grill he took any excuse to get out.

‘YES!’ Neal sent back almost instantly, making Peter chuckle.

‘We’ll light the grill at 7:30 ish?’ Peter suggested.

‘Perfect,’ Neal confirmed. ‘I’ll bring side dishes.’

‘Deal,’ Peter sent, laying down his phone to refocus on his wife as she re-entered the room.

“What are you planning to do tonight, honey?” she asked, putting in a pair of earrings in front of the small mirror by the shelf.

“Neal’s going to come over,” he said, “we’re going to grill steaks.”

“Oh,” El said with relish, turning to look at her husband with slightly pleading eyes. “Will you save me one?”

Peter smiled as El’s eyes widened and she pushed her lip out into a slight pout.

“Of course we will,” he said, kissing her hair as he moved to pick out his tie for the day.

“You’re the best husband in the world,” she informed him seriously.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

"Peter, you home, hon?" El asked the house as she came in the front door.

"Yeah, El, we’re back in the kitchen!” he called, drying his hands off and looking toward the door where his wife appeared a moment later.

“Do you care if the friends I went to see the musical with come in to have a drink?” she asked, an oddly mischievous glint in her eyes.

Peter studied her, confused and feeling like he was missing something obvious, but nodded.

“Uh, sure, hon,” he said, still feeling puzzled by his wife’s odd behavior.

He exchanged a glance with Neal, who nodded with a furrowed brow, he thought something was going on as well.

What his wife was planning became immediately clear as she walked back to the front door to open it for their guests, Peter and Neal trailing a few steps behind.

The door swung inward, Elizabeth beckoned someone forward, and in walked Diana, followed by Jones and Mabena. Peter watched in shock as his entire White Collar department streamed into his living room and made their way to the back patio after making a pit stop in the kitchen, once prodded by El, to pick up some beer.

“Elizabeth...” Neal trailed off, not sure how to articulate his displeasure as he followed the group out the back door.

“Hon,” Peter demanded, not caring that his agents could hear him, “ _why_?”

El shrugged, trying to shove down her mischievous smile.

“Diana texted me asking me about the new jokes you two were making around the office, so I invited her and the team,” she said simply.

“El!”

She pulled out a chair and sat down as she shrugged again, unapologetic.

“Hon," she said reasonably, "if you didn’t want them to see it, you should have explained your jokes. Everyone knows it’s rude to use inside jokes and then not explain them.”

Peter gaped at her as his agents laughed, pulling out chairs and making themselves at home around his patio table.

“You were absolutely right,” she informed her husband, who was still silently struggling to form a response. “Neal and Frank really are the exact same person, but you forgot to mention just how similar you and Carl are.”

“Oh, come on,” Peter scoffed, grabbing a beer from the six pack on the table and claiming a seat across from his consultant. “Other than being in the FBI and chasing a criminal miscreant who’s too smart for his own good, we don’t have that much in common.”

“Are you serious?” Neal asked, disbelief dripping off his tone. “Peter, minus the divorce, you two are basically the exact same!”

“We are not!” Peter argued indignantly.

Neal raised a finger, counting on it pointedly as he reeled off his list.

“One, he was from the accounting department, you majored in accounting in college.”

"Lots of people major in accounting," Peter brushed off.

Neal raised another finger.

“Two, he only has one suit that he wears to work, just like you.”

“I have more than one suit!”

Neal sent him a look that was equal parts skeptical and exasperated as the others laughed.

“Three,” Neal raised his finger without verbally acknowledging Peter’s rebuttal, “you both kept looking long after your bosses told you to let it go.”

“Oh, come on, that’s just being an FBI agent,” Peter protested.

“Four,” Neal continued, “you both believe in ‘restoring order instead of furthering chaos’.”

“Ok, I stand by that statement,” Peter shot back, “but again, that’s called being an FBI agent.”

“I don’t know, Peter,” Jones cut in with a laugh. “I’m an FBI agent, and I’ve never once used the phrase ‘furthering chaos’, how did that even come up?”

“I asked him the difference between revenge and justice,” Neal said, laughing at the look Peter shot him for answering Jones’ question.

When everyone laughed, Peter transferred his glare to the whole group instead of just Neal.

“Seriously?” Zoe asked through her laughter. “That’s your answer?”

“Isn’t it the most Peter thing you’ve ever heard in your life?” Neal demanded gleefully, waving a vindicated arm in her direction as he nodded emphatically at her.

“Boss, I hate to tell you this,” Diana added, smiling widely, “but I’m an FBI agent, and that wouldn’t have been how I answered that question.”

“Well, was it _wrong_?” Peter demanded.

“We’re not arguing if it’s wrong,” Chang explained teasingly, “we’re arguing that human people don’t actually talk like that.”

“Four,” Neal called over the renewed laughter and Peter’s offended spluttering. “You and Carl are both ridiculously obsessed with the Yankees.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” Peter grumbled petulantly.

“Oh, it is,” Neal assured him.

“Five,” Neal continued before Peter could argue, “you and Carl both talked to your suspect at a crime scene without arresting him.”

“We also both caught the rabbit at the end of the race,” Peter pointed out mercilessly.

"That makes you a tortoise,” Neal informed him, a note of teasing disdain in his tone.

Peter nodded and shrugged, unbothered. “Which means I win every race I run, Thumper.”

Neal's judgmental expression fell into a pout as his friends sniggered at the comeback.

"You both believe in a catch and release program," Ocampo grinned, moving on before Neal thought of a response. "You both caught your perp and then got him right back out of jail."

"Ok," Peter protested, "the difference is that Carl suggested it to Frank, Neal pestered me into our arrangement."

El giggled loudly, trying to stifle the noise behind her hand.

"Pestered?" she asked knowingly when her husband looked her way.

"I asked one time," Neal confided in the rest of the agents before Peter could spout his defense. "We had one single, fifteen minute meeting. Peter, that's not pestering, that's asking."

"No," Peter insisted, a slight blush rising in his cheeks as his agents cackled around him, "you know full well it would have escalated to pestering if I had said no. You would have started using your weekly phone call to call my house and bother me."

"Oh," Neal gasped in wide-eyed excitement, "I should have done that!"

His teammates roared with laughter as Peter rolled his eyes dramatically.

"Well I, for one," El said after the laughter quieted down a bit, "am glad you let him _pester_ you into the deal."

Neal beamed at her, his smile genuine and bright.

"Me too," Diana said, grinning at him when he looked her way, and around the table, the rest of the White Collar agents chorused their agreement.

Peter sighed dramatically.

"Yeah," he relented to his wife, "don't tell him, but I am, too."

Neal's smile brightened even further as he turned his attention back to his handler.

"Well, Peter," he said happily, "I'm glad to be on your team."

Peter grinned fondly back and said, "Neal, we can make some legal, law-abiding butter out of cream," which sparked another wave of laughter around the table.

"Looks like we're stuck together," Neal noted, not looking the slightest bit unhappy about the observation.

"Strange, but true," Peter shrugged his agreement.

Neal smiled as he looked around the table at his friends, then refocused on his handler.

“Yeah,” he agreed happily. “Strange, but true.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is another sequel coming, I’m just not quite done writing it yet, but I do plan to post it! Maybe in about a month? Maybe sooner? It’s hard to tell with my ridiculous brain.  
>   
> I did accidentally write another full length White Collar story that isn’t in this series if you want to check it out! It’s called ‘[Perceiving Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26863255/chapters/65543272)’ 😁  
>   
> Also, if you’re looking for more White Collar Stories, as a shameless plug, my baby sister has written three great White Collar stories under the name [Summer_Meadows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Summer_Meadows/works)!


End file.
